


i was there

by awesomeaislin



Series: Carry On Countdown 2018 [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, M/M, NOV 26 - Nostalgia, Singing in the car, Song: All Too Well (Taylor Swift)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 00:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomeaislin/pseuds/awesomeaislin
Summary: Day two of Carry On Countdown is Nostalgia, and I've been writing this for a while, and I felt like this might be the time to post it."Before we go outside, Baz wraps my scarf around me, “Don’t want you to get cold.”And even though I abandon, and subsequently leave behind, the scarf a few minutes later when I overheat, he laughs and smiles and tells me he’ll buy me a new one.It all feels like home."





	i was there

**Author's Note:**

> Look, idk, this idea kind of came to me in a fever dream while I was sick a few months ago. And I've been writing it on and off since them. I don't know if I have the right words to get this right, but if i don't post it now I probably never will.

  


_I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,_

_But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I_

_Left my scarf there at your sister's house,_

_And you still got it in your drawer even now._

 

When I walk through the door, the first thing I notice is how cold it is in here. The wind is roaring outside and none of the radiators are working and I’m freezing, but I’ve never felt more at ease.

 

Here, with Baz just a step away from me, visiting his family home for some kind of Easter celebration.

 

We sit down in his room together and he tells me not to be worried, and I tell him I’m not. And I’m really not. Not because I trust his family, of course I don’t, they all wanted to kill me not that long ago, but because I trust him. I trust he wouldn’t bring me here if it was going to go horribly wrong.

 

“Are you sure you’re not worried?” He asks again even though he really doesn't have to.

 

“Are you?” I ask because he seems like he might be. I think he probably is. It’s bizarre that I feel more comfortable in _his_ home than he does.

 

“No,” He shakes his head, but he reaches out for my hand and squeezes hard and I know he’s lying. “It’s alot,” he explains.

 

“I can go if it’s too m-”

 

“Of course not,” Baz argues, “You’re the only thing here to keep me sane.” I don’t ask him what he means by that, and I don’t fight him when he pushes me onto the bed and kisses me hard as a way of changing the subject.

 

Before we go outside, Baz wraps my scarf around me, “Don’t want you to get cold.” And even though I abandon, and subsequently leave behind, the scarf a few minutes later when I overheat, he laughs and smiles and tells me he’ll buy me a new one.

 

It all feels like home.

 

_Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze._

_We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate._

_The Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place,_

_And I can picture it after all these days._

 

There’s nothing sweet about Baz. He’s all harsh lines and sarcastic comments. Everything about him is severe and calculated.

 

There’s nothing sweet about Baz, that is until I get him alone. Then he can be nice words and tender touches and soft smiles that I doubt you could find anywhere else. When Baz is alone he doesn’t mind being soft. He’s not always nice, but there’s never any bite behind his mean comments. It’s always so sweet.

 

And it takes me by surprise. It can be hard to reconcile the Baz that tormented me throughout school and the Baz that holds me after a nightmare. The sweet things leave me staring at him like I can’t believe he’s real.(Once he knocked on my head jokingly, ‘ _anyone in there?’)_

 

We’re in his much too expensive car driving back from a fall farmer’s market that he decided we needed to go to (‘ _Fall themed baked goods are a whole new variety of food for you to gorge yourself on, Snow’)_ , or at least we’re trying to drive back, but our phones are out of battery and we’re getting a little lost. He keeps assuring me that he knows the way, but I’m pretty sure we’re lost.

 

I let him keep driving anyway. Even though I know we’re lost, and that it’ll take forever to get home because we’re singing in the car to anything that comes on the radio, and we’re laughing about how bad I am at singing(he’s great at it. _Typical)_ , and he’s making fun of how many Taylor Swift songs this radio station plays even though he sings along to every single one.

 

I notice him staring at me. He’s a big starer. It’s no wonder I thought he was plotting.

 

Part of me wishes my phone hadn’t ran out so that I could take a photo of him like this. Maybe I could get one without him noticing with the fall leaves falling around him. But I know I’ll remember it no matter how many days pass. I’ll remember this until the day I die.

 

_And I know it's long gone,_

_And that magic's not here no more,_

_And I might be okay,_

_But I'm not fine at all._

 

“Are you ok?”

I don’t want to worry him. There’s enough shit in his life that I shouldn’t add anything extra by worrying him. “Yeah,” I assure him. And I am okay. I’m physically okay. I’m not crying. Everyday is okay. But I’m not fine at all. Not really.

“It’s okay, you know, if you’re not okay.” He runs his fingers through my hair, and I try not to start crying. We don’t need a whole mental breakdown.

I shake my head at him. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about how empty I sometimes feel without my magic. About how I worry that there’s nothing I can do to stop him from leaving, to stop everyone from leaving. That one day, probably soon I’ll be alone again. That one day they’ll realize there was nothing special about me without my magic, and they’ll go.

I don’t want to talk about it. So he turns on the lamp, and leads me down the hall to make me a cup of tea. And I smile without thinking because he’s so lovely, and I’ll miss him when he eventually leaves.

“You should go back to bed.” I tell him. Because it’s true. He shouldn’t get a bad nights sleep just because I can’t keep my life together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. I think I believe him.

 

_'Cause there we are again on that little town street._

_You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me._

_Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well._

 

“What the fuck was that, Baz!” Penny demands as we jerk to a stop. He’s the only one of us that can drive and he nearly ran a red light and killed us, and Penny is furious.

“Nothing,” Baz rolls his eyes like it’s nothing. No one can pretend everything is fine like Baz Pitch. The days of autumn leaves and scenic drives are long behind us.

“That wasn’t nothing!” She argues, “We could have died.” And we really could have, but probably not. It’s not like we’re on a busy intersection. It’s not like we weren’t wearing out seatbelts. It’s not like 2/3 of us don’t have magic to protect us. But yeah, we could have died.

Baz doesn’t say anything. He just pulls over, gets out of the car, and walks toward a small clearing. He sits down on the ground without even checking to see if there is mud on the ground. It’s not at all like him. I get out and follow, and Penny comes with us.

“I didn’t mean to,” He says quietly before I even sit down beside him. I pull him into my arms and he curls into me. Penny folds her arms around us, and we all just sit like that. For hours, until it’s really time to go home.

 

And Baz doesn’t want to get back into the car because he doesn’t trust himself. “I got distracted.” He was too busy looking at me. He’s always too busy looking at me.

 

“Then I’ll sit in the back,” I promise him, but he frowns at me.

 

“Fuck off,” He says as he gets in and starts the car. I glance at a beaming Penny, and I get in behind him.

 

_Photo album on the counter, your cheeks are turning red,_

_You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin sized bed._

_And Your mother’s telling stories about you on a tee-ball team_

_You tell me about your past thinking your future was me._

 

Baz looks like he might die of embarrassment. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blush this much. But here he is bright red, while his Stepmum tells me stories about when Baz was younger.

 

About how when Mordelia was born, he tried to feed her to the wraiths. And how he tried to bake cookies once but nearly set himself on fire. And the first time he scored a goal in football, and he was so happy he cried.

 

I don’t know why he finds this so embarrassing. I wonder if this is what it would be like if I had a mum. If she’d tell all the terrible stories of my youth.

 

He must decide it’s too much because he tells Daphne we’re going for a walk and drags me outside. His cheeks are still pink from blushing. The first chance he gets he pushes me into a pile of leaves.

 

“Hey!” I protest from the ground. “What was that for?” I’m grinning at him. Even though he’s being mean. Even though he’s glaring at me.

 

He shrugs and attempts to keep walking, but I catch his hand and pull him down to me. I laugh at the way he checks to see if he’s stained anything before he relaxes.

 

“You’ve done enough laughing at me for the day,” He grumbles.

 

“I’m not laughing at you,” I tell him chuckling.

 

“Then what do you call that,” He’s still blushing, and he tries to stand up and leave me, but I don’t let him. I kiss him.

 

“I liked hearing about you as a kid.”

 

“I could tell,” He rolls his eyes. He tries to get up again.

 

“No, Baz,” I laugh. “You know I’m not going to think of you any differently just because you did some weird shit as a kid.” He considers me for a minute, but he doesn’t say anything. “I like hearing about your past.”

 

“You don’t need to hear about it,” He tells me. “Now is what matters.”

 

“Ok, love, whatever you say.”

 

_And I know it’s long gone,_

_And there was nothing else I could do._

_I forget about you long enough_

_To Forget Why I needed to_

_Because here we are again_

_In the middle of the night,_

_We’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light._

_Down the stairs, I was there I remember it all too well._

 

“What are you doing out here,” I ask rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It’s 2am. He should be asleep in our bed, not out here biting his nails and pulling his hair over an essay.

 

“I’m not done,” He explains without looking up. He keeps typing.

“It’ll still be there in the morning.” He looks at me like I’ve just thrown his laptop out the window. Like I’ve just told him I’m thinking of joining the monastery. Like I’ve decided I’d like to change my name to Barry. He looks angry and a little bit confused.

 

“Yes, but I won’t have time to do it in the morning.”

 

“When is it due?” I ask but I already know it’s not due for another three days. He’s just being dramatic.

 

“Wednesday.”

 

“Then you have time.” I shut him laptop, and I pull him, and he glares and me, but leans in anyway. And suddenly we’re dancing.

 

There’s no music, but we sway as if there was. As if we’re at prom, and they’ve just put on a slow song. He rests his head on my shoulder, and he must be so tired, but I don’t want this moment to be over.

 

“What are we even doing?” He mumbles into my shirt.

 

“Shh, darling, come to bed.” And this time he follows willingly.

 

_Maybe we got lost in translation_

_Maybe I asked for too much,_

_But maybe this thing was a masterpiece,_

_Until you tore it all up._

_Running scared, I was there I remember it all too well_

 

“So what?” I’m screaming at him. I don’t know when we got to screaming. I don’t know how we got here. _What are we even fighting about?_ I want to yell at him. I want this to stop.

 

“It doesn’t matter that you’re a vampire, it doesn’t matter that you’re a boy, it doesn’t matter that you’re family hates me. None of it matters to me.” I yell. “But I’m never going to be enough for you.” He shakes his head at me, and grabs onto my arm, but I pull it away.

 

I walk out the door, get in an uber, and I try not to look back.

 

_Hey, you call me up again,_

_Just to break me like a promise_

_So casually cruel in the name of being honest_

_I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here_

_'Cause I remember it all, all, all... too well_

 

“Come home,” He begs an hour later over the phone.

 

“I can’t,” I tell him.

 

“I miss you.” He’s crying. I can hear in his voice. I’m sitting in Penny’s living room, and Micah and Penny are taking turns giving me pitying looks and also completely angry glares.

 

“I know, me too,” I tell him. Because it’s true. Because I do miss him. Because I’d rather be home right now. Because I meant what I said, but I’d do anything to take it back.

 

_Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it_

_I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it_

_After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own_

_Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone_

 

“Simon,” Penny starts a few hours later. I look up at her, and I start crying again. “You need to go home.”

 

“I know,” I say. I’m miserable. The last few hours have felt like a lifetime. I don’t know what to do with myself.

 

It’s not like we haven’t fought before. Honestly, most of what we do is argue, but not like this. “I’m not good enough for him,” I say again.

 

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Micah pipes up from the kitchen.

 

“The baby!” Penny hisses. 

 

"That's forking ridiculous," Micah corrects. Penny glares at him. Micah shakes his head. “No, you don’t get to decide that, Simon. Maybe you don’t deserve him, maybe you do, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you make him happy, and he makes you happy and that’s that.”

 

Penny smiles a little at him. “Look, Simon, I’m not going to tell you that you have to stay with Baz.” She wipes a tear from her eyes. “But honestly if you think it’s worth it then you have to keep trying.”

 

I nod, and she holds my hand hard enough that it hurts. “Love is taking a few steps backward maybe even more to give way to the happiness of the person you love.”

 

“What great philosopher said that,” I laugh more tears rolling down my cheeks.

 

“Winnie the pooh,” Micah smiles back at us.

 

_But you keep my old scarf from that very first week,_

_It reminds you of innocence, and it smells like me._

_You can’t get rid of it_

_‘Cause you remember it all too well._

 

When I get home, he’s wrapped up in some kind of makeshift pillow cocoon in the living room. He’s got sad music on in the background and he seems to be looking at old pictures of us. We're smiling and laughing. He’s got that scarf I thought I’d lost at his parent’s house.

 

“I thought I’d lost that scarf,” I whisper. He doesn’t turn around to look at me. His parent’s must have found it. He must not have wanted to give it back to me. Maybe he thought he might need it on a day like this.

A picture pops up on his phone of us at Penny and Micah’s when they had insisted we celebrate Thanksgiving. Even though as Baz had pointed out ‘ _have you forgotten we live in Britain, Bunces.”_ I suppose there’s never a wrong time to show you’re grateful for the things and people around you.

 

I sit down next to him. He still doesn’t look at me. “Do you remember that that was our first year together, and we all went around and said what we were thankful for, and I said ‘this food.’ I didn’t mean it. I wanted to say you, but I didn’t want you to think I was being sappy.” My voice breaks every couple words, and I sound ridiculous. I want him to look at me.

 

I brush my hand through his hair, to so if he’ll let me, and he does. He leans into me. Another picture appears, it’s from the first time we had board game night. “That was such a good day,” I tell him, I’m sure he knows. But I tell him anyway, “You and Penny got much too competitive, and I threw the board, so neither of you would win. I couldn’t imagine getting caught in the middle of that going well for me, so I threw the board. And you didn’t even get mad, you just laughed and smiled, and suggested jenga.”

 

"Do you remember Micah and Penny's wedding?" I ask even though I'm sure he does. "And you helped Penny get ready all morning, but you still cried when she came down the aisle." 

 

I slip my hand into his. He doesn't pull away. "Baz," my voice breaks, "Do you remember that time when we crashed the car? And we had to go to the hospital because I had hit my head. And I thought there was no way we were going to last until morning. I thought you were going to realize how much better you were than me. I didn't want to go to sleep. I thought you'd be gone when I woke up. But when I opened my eyes, you were looking at me. And I knew it would be ok."

 

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re always enough,” He mutters. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he’s pulling me into him and burying his face into my neck. He’s crying so much, but I am too. “If you ever do that again, I’m going to set you on fire.”

 

“Ok,” I laugh through the tears because of course he’d say that. “Do you want a cup of tea?” I hope he says no. I don’t want to let him go.

 

“That counts as leaving,” He mumbles.

“Alright, love,” I whisper to him. “It’s going to be alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

_Cause there we are again when I loved you so,_

_Back before you lost the one real thing you’d every known_

_It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well._

 

We go back to normal quicker than I would have thought. We get married a year later. We have kids. And then we have grandkids. We even have a few dogs (Baz always jokes that they’re his midnight snack, but I think he loves them more than the rest of us combined).

 

We sit outside in the garden alot more than we used to. Just looking at flowers and appreciating life. It’s not all a picnic. We fight over little things. We fight over big things. We have a few struggles, but we make it through. We always make it through (he never had to set me on fire).

 

“Do you remember when-” He starts. He likes to reminisce a lot more than he used to.  For someone who used to say the present was all that matters, he seems to be very nostalgic about life when we were younger.

 

He doesn’t need to ask if I remember. Of course I remember.

 

“I remember it all.”

 

_Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all_

_Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all_

_It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well._

  
  


  


**Author's Note:**

> See i dont know about this one. Because I've really been thinking about this for a long time, but I don't think i've got this right. But I really listen to all too well alot and I think yeah it's such a sad song, but it's so beautiful. I mean when will I abandon my taylor swift inspired fics? never?


End file.
